Only in my Dreams
by Pomodoro Crisi
Summary: Light regrets killing L. i know its a cliche but its good i guess. lots of depression and emotions. so if you get sad im sorry and ill give you a cookie. so enjoy peoples.


Only In My Dreams

"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That is where I will always love you."

A head of bronze hair turned restlessly on the pale linen of a pillow. The odd colored hair fanned out like a crown around the young man's head. He let an exasperated sigh scape his dry lips.

It was another one of those nights, where he could sleep for a few hours and be in a blissful and distant past, then awaken only to be reminded it was simply a dream. This was just one of many restless nights spent trying to avoid images of those dark, black eyes he used to hate so much. It go to the point where he couldn't even close his eyes without seeing that pale face framed by that strikingly contrasting black hair.

Yet this is what the teen loved most. The maddening images of a man he had gotten killed, only to realize how much he really cared for him after it was far too late. He gladly let himself go crazy almost daily with the memories and regrets that constantly shadowed him. It would get to the piont where he could no longer control himself. He would fall onto his bed, holding back the sobs that died to escape past his lips, from there he would cry and beat the mattress and pillow he could move nor breath any longer.

It had been close to a year since Light Yagami had killed L. It was also close to a year since Light Yagami had gone legally insane by his standards. He continued to play both L and Kira, but had come to be familiar with random though frequent bouts of tears and anger. Amane Misa had been relieved of he duties as the second Kira and was back to being a normal model. She continued to live with Light and that was where the two left it.

Light spent most of his time either instructing the task force or Mikami. The rest of his life was devoted solely to trying to shove the painful thoughts and images of Ryuzaki from his mind. Even the tiniest thing would set off a memory or spark an idea of something to do with the brunette. Light would lay in bed dreaming for hours if it meant things being the way things should have. Unfortunately all dreams end and always before the dreamer was satisfied. Every time Light woke up, he'd remember what he had done, and cry for hours on end.

He managed to paint on a smile for the sake of appearances. Although if you looked closely, you can clearly see the tears building up just behind the paint. Each day more and more pieces of the oh-so-well applied paint chipped away. Bigger and Bigger each time. Light feared that one day all of his facade would be dispersed like bats in the dawn, and he would be exposed to his enemies with no hope of comfort but that of a syringe especially for Kira.

How bittersweet his slowly deteriorating life had become. On one hand, he would be with his beloved Ryuaki again if he confessed. On the other hand, he would be giving up his place as God of the new regime. The thought of admitting defeat sounded so deliciously tempting when he spent the nights eating away at his mind and body with guilt and regret. But the more he killed and the more the world praised him, the less tempting death became.

Though if these dreams continued, he would soon find himself succumbing to death's icy touch.

Five years later, that's exactly where Light found himself. Near and Mello had defeated him, he was dieing, and he knew it. He could feel his heart rate speeding up, the air around him getting colder and colder. He could feel the life pouring from through the bullet wounds. He was finally going to be with his love, forever. An eternity of happiness and bliss, that was where he was heading as he ran through the old warehouse. When death finally held him close, he melted into it. He saw Ryuzaki, waiting for him in the limbo between heaven and hell.

Suddenly he didn't feel so cold anymore. He whispered hoarsely to the man before him with his last breath. It was barely audible for any bystanders, had there been any, to hear. It was the one thing he hadn't said until it was too late. His final confession to the man with the sugar addiction he adored so much.


End file.
